


a piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret

by bellairestrella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bella Swan with a Backbone, Character Study, Community: girlsavesboyfic, Other, References to War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2010-11-25
Packaged: 2020-01-11 09:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellairestrella/pseuds/bellairestrella
Summary: In many ways, the war never left Hermione.





	a piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret

**Author's Note:**

> This is very..weird. Probably one of the strangest and most nonsensical things I've ever written. That includes the one time I wrote demon!Harry fic. I'm very proud of this little creation though <333 Oh, and if you don't happen to be a fan of the pairings mentioned in this fic (i.e. Harry/Hermione and Jacob/Bella), you are free to hit the back button if you wish. 
> 
> I wrote this for the awesome girlsavesboyfic challenge. The idea behind the fic popped up one day and wouldn't leave me alone until I put it on paper. In the end I'm happy that it didn't! And this turned out more…reflective than shippy. Oh well!
> 
> Before I forget, I would like to thank the loffly and spectacular **Spaz** and **Lix** for once again coming to my rescue and being such fabulous betas. There are not good enough words in the English language to express my gratitude. They rock my socks. Always. Thank you so much, ladies.
> 
> The title comes from the fantastic and gorgeous song "Breakable" by the equally gorgeous and fantastic Ingrid Michaelson. Oh, and the word "frak" isn't mine – it belongs to Battlestar Galactica (the TV show) and its respective creators. (And uh..I don't own Michael Lee either. Just for the record.)

In many ways, the war never left Hermione.

(Never has. Never will.)

It taught her too much. It was as much a part of her as she was a part of it. War had shown her to live, love and lose, to break apart and come back together again, to be _human_.

Nine years later, war still haunts her. She can see it everywhere. It’s there in the bitter edge of George’s smile, in the countless empty seats at the dining hall tables, in the way her own laughter sounds hollow to her ears. It’s there in everyone’s eyes, voices, postures, gestures, thoughts. It hit them where nothing has, hurt them unlike anything else.

It changed them forever. They were no longer wild, happy, silly, carefree, _young_. A subtle wariness lay in their bones, in their hearts, in their minds. Trust was lost and rarely regained. Nightmares were their only company once the sun went down. The beauty of life faded away and was replaced by a sharp greyness. The world became ugly, a hell that they could never escape from. 

War does strange things to people, she reflects. It brings out the best and the worst in them. It can turn them into brutal, bloodthirsty beings. Make them strangers with no souls, with pasts so dark and haunting they no longer knew themselves.

She doesn’t know if she can even recognize _herself_ anymore.

Which is why one day she decides to take a day off from work and goes to Muggle London.

Her London.

* * *

She finds a quiet, charmingly rustic café far from where anyone in the wizarding world could discover her. Sitting at a worn and etched-out wooden table outside, she gazes out into the distance, letting the long-repressed memories wash over her. 

(People screaming. Death Eaters crashing Bill and Fleur’s wedding. The sense of wariness and fear that followed her wherever she went. Ron’s parting words: “ _You choose him_.” Harry’s face, so open and expressive even when he put on a façade. Bathilda’s possessed body. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_. Harry closing his eyes at her touch. The elegant and unmarred graves of Lily and James Potter. The sight of Ron, drained and full of quiet regrets and _alive_ , emerging from Harry’s shadow. Thinking of only one face, the only one she would give up everything ( _herself_ ) for while her body felt like it was in eternal fire. Dobby lying on the ground, small, silent and still. The familiar, lifeless body in Hagrid’s arms. Twin flashes of light signaling both death and rebirth.)

“Um, excuse me?” A soft voice interrupts her thoughts. 

Hermione blinks, startled, and then a petite brunette girl slowly comes into focus. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly to the waitress (whose nametag reads _Bella_ ). “Had my head in the clouds. What did you ask?”

Bella smiles slightly and waves it off. “It’s fine. I was just asking what you would like to order.” 

“Ah. I’ll have a glass of orange juice and a blueberry scone, please. That’s all.” There’s something strange yet so memorable about this Bella girl, Hermione can’t help but think. Something she’s seen before….it takes her a split second to realize exactly what that _something_ is. It’s Bella’s eyes. Her face, her gestures, her voice. They’re world-weary. She’s witnessed war. Felt it, heard it. She still senses it – it’s there, strumming in her bones, in her heart, in her very skin. It won’t escape her.

(It won’t escape Hermione either.)

A hushed laugh escapes Bella’s mouth. “How very British of you,” she says amusedly. Then her eyes widen and her hands immediately fly to her mouth. “Oh, _frak_. I didn’t mean to say that! I’m sorry.”

Hermione chuckles. “It’s fine,” she tells Bella. “I have to go with the stereotype sometimes. Scones are an essential part of life, I think.”

“Oh. Well – I’m sorry, anyway,” Bella’s face is a smooth blank mask now. “I always speak before I think. Should work on that.”

At the moment that Hermione starts to protest, Bella adds quickly, “I’ll be right back with your order,” and walks away.

Shrugging, Hermione returns to her dreary thoughts.

* * *

Within minutes, Bella’s back with a scone and a glass of orange juice. She hesitates for a second, then suddenly her face and demeanor change and a determined look crosses her face. “Do you, um. Do you mind if I sit here for a bit?” She asks, hands flailing a little. “It’s relaxing out here.” 

“Sure,” Hermione gestures to the chair across from her. “Two’s company and all that.” She flashes a grin at Bella and receives a laugh in return. 

“True, true,” Bella agrees and takes the offered seat. “I don’t think we have to worry about a third ruining our company anytime soon though,” she says wryly, motioning vaguely at the many empty tables surrounding them. 

Hermione shakes her head bemusedly. “Having a third person around isn’t horrible, really. Sometimes it helps to know that they’re there – that way you don’t feel alone.” She bites her tongue before she reveals too much.

“Funny. It’s the exact opposite with me.” Bella mutters. At Hermione’s barely concealed look of curiosity, she shifts in her chair and continues. “I don’t know how to put it in words. I don’t – I’ve always thought I was alone, even when someone was there with me. The only time I ever knew, or even _felt_ , that I wasn’t –” She stops when a searing pain shoots through her. She swallows and tries again. “The only time I didn’t feel that I was alone was when Jake was there. He was – is – my best friend.” Her eyes become glazed over as she gets lost in her thoughts. 

Meanwhile Hermione says nothing – she knows that it’s better for Bella to continue her story than never finish it. That it’s somehow therapeutic, even comforting, to tell a story to a complete stranger – there is a chance the pain they have may on some level be the same. She takes a small bite of her scone and gestures vaguely for Bella to continue. 

“Actually,” Bella goes on, “if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here. Jake knew before I even told him that I had to leave and find myself. That I had to let go of all the anger and hurt inside me before I self-destructed.” She falls silent. 

When she speaks again, her voice is deathly quiet. “I had – there was someone before Jake, who I loved more than anything in the world. Who I loved more than I loved myself. It took me a long time to realize that being so consumed by that kind of passion, that _longing_ , was hurting more than healing. And on some level I’ll always love him, but – it’s not the same as it was before.” She exhales. “Jake was different. He’s saved me in the past. And now...I have to be the one to save myself.” 

A comfortable silence follows; finally, after a few minutes Hermione breaks it. “It appears Jake and I could be the same person,” she tries to say lightly, giving a broken laugh. “I am the savior, not the saved.” She looks down at the table for a moment, and then looks up. “It isn’t something I was forced to do – it was always my choice. From the beginning. I don’t regret it at all. Never could.” The last two words come out in a rough whisper. 

Bella sits up straighter in her seat and folds her hands on the tabletop. “This person you talk about…it sounds like they’re everything to you.”

Hermione’s smile is bittersweet. “They are more than that.” She sighs quietly. “I would give up my life for him. My soul, my heart, my sanity.”

Bella manages to mask how utterly stupefied she feels upon hearing those words from Hermione’s mouth. And the woman in question, unaware of the conflicting display of emotions on her friend’s face, continues speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary had been voiced.

“When I think about it, it’s pretty ironic.” Hermione’s mouth twists. “Where I’m from…he’s considered a hero. But what everyone doesn’t know is that he would do anything to have a normal life, to not have so much expected from him. Which is where I come in, I guess.” She taps her fingers against her untouched glass. “I help him forget that he doesn’t have to be the brave one all the time.” She exhales deeply. “I actually used to tell him that he had a ‘saving people thing.’ As he always tried – still does – to make sure that everyone’s alright and not in any mortal danger.” 

A wry smile touches her lips. “It took me a long time to realize that when he’s concerned I have a ‘saving people thing’ too.” _A ‘saving Harry thing,’_ she adds silently. 

Bella only nods in response, letting her know to go on. 

“And from what you’ve told me about your Jake, I get the feeling that you would go to the ends of the earth for him too.” Hermione’s voice is soft. “Maybe he hasn’t said so but...I have no doubt that in some way you’ve saved him too, Bella.”

Before the younger woman can react in any way, a deep, accented voice tinged with amusement interrupts them. “I never thought the day would come when you played hooky from work, Hermy.” 

Hermione wrinkles her nose at the nickname and turns to glare at the unexpected visitor. “For your information Potter, I’m not playing hooky,” she says haughtily. “I have the day off.” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” Potter replies, a slight smirk touching his lips. “I do have some business to discuss with you though.” He raises an eyebrow.

Hermione nods and turns back around to face Bella. “I’m sorry, I have to –” she starts to say apologetically, stopping when Bella puts a hand up. 

“It’s alright,” the other girl says breezily. “Go ahead.” She gets up from her chair and pushes it back under the table. “I’ve slacked off work enough already.” At Hermione’s horrified look, she waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was nice talking to you. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you around,” Hermione echoes, returning her smile and presses a crisp ten pound note in her hand. “Thanks for the tea and scone. And for listening to me ramble,” she adds, earning a laugh from Bella. “Keep the change.” Bella pockets the money and says “thank you” very softly to Hermione. 

With one final, small smile, she waves and walks away with Potter. As the sound of their footsteps grow fainter, Bella hears Hermione say “Way to fail at being subtle, Harry” and smacks him on the arm. And Harry only chuckles and wraps an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer, and whispers something in her ear. The last thing Bella sees before they turn the corner is Hermione’s face turning a dark blush and Harry at her side, laughter ringing in the air.

Bella turns around, giggling softly to herself, and goes back inside the café. Once she’s inside, she sees her boss, a tall, handsome man with an Australian accent who goes by the name Michael Lee, walk up to her with the cordless phone in his hand. “Phone for you,” he says gruffly.

Bella takes it a bit cautiously and holds it up to her ear. She nods her thanks to Michael (who just gives her a thumbs up in answer and goes back into the kitchen). “Hello?”

“Hey,” a warm, husky voice greets her. Instantly Bella’s heart feels _lighter_ , almost weightless in her chest. “Long time no talk, Bells.”

The smile that forms on her mouth right then could outshine a hundred billion suns. “Hey you. Good to see that you haven’t forgotten me, Black.”

The sound of a sharp bark that could pass for laughter fills her ears. “As if I could ever forget the famous Bella Swan.”

“Psh, you better not,” she scoffs at him and leans back against the wall. “Or you’ll live to regret it. I can promise you that, Jake.” They both know she isn’t kidding. “Seriously, though. I missed you.”

A minute of silence. “Missed you too, Bells,” Jacob’s voice is a little rough. “Wish you were here. You would do so much for my sanity.”

She grins at that. “You’re the one who encouraged me to take this trip. So it’s all your fault I’m not there.”

“I know, I know.” He huffs out a sigh. “You sure like to make me your scapegoat, Swan.”

“Only telling the truth, Jake dear,” She quips, making him gasp in mock outrage and then chortle. 

“Touché, Bells. Touché,” he says. “Those Brits have been teaching you a thing or two, haven’t they?”

“You could say that.”

When they hang up twenty minutes later the smile never leaves Bella’s face.


End file.
